There’s
nothing I can do right now. The bandit’s blade digs into my neck, and I can
feel the trickles of blood oozing from the wounds. I know I’ll never reach the
dagger sheathed on my thigh without alerting him. Perhaps I’ll have a chance to escape
later if I bide my time now. He drags me back quickly, to the back of the
merchant caravan. Though I dig my heels into the ground it does little to slow
our backwards progress. Zane, Lukas, and Daren are busy fighting off the
remaining bandits. When the brigand holding me reaches the corral where the
merchants’ horses are tied, he releases me for a quick second to slice through
the reins of the nearest horse. I wasn’t expecting him to let go, and I fall
hard on my backside before trying to scramble to my feet. A sharp pain sears
through my head and everything goes black.
The first
thing I notice when I begin to wake is that my head throbs in time with my
heartbeat. As my mind becomes more aware, an awful stench assaults my nose. I’ve
never smelled anything so repulsive in all my life. When I try to move my hand
to cover my nose, I realize my wrists are shackled together in iron manacles. My
eyes fly open, and as I take in my surroundings, my heart plummets like a stone
falling over a cliff. I’m lying on my side staring at the bars of my prison
cell. Not only are my hands shackled but my ankles are as well. The stone floor
is damp and covered in what I can only assume is human refuse. My eyes water from the horrendous stench. I blink, swallow hard, trying to remain composed.
Panic will not help. A rat skitters across the floor in my field of vision, and it
takes everything in my power to swallow the scream that rises to my throat. Carefully
I sit up to get a better look around. My cell is only one of many,
the others also filled with women. I must be in the bandits’ stronghold.
“Where are
we?” I call out softly to the woman in the cell beside mine. The only
acknowledgment I receive is her dead, blank stare.
“Well, my
pretty, little slave, I see you’re finally awake.” A voice booms from the hall
in front of my cell. The women in the surrounding cells shudder and cringe at
the voice. Shakily, I try to rise to face the man leaning against the bars of
my prison. My legs give out, and I fall back to the floor in a heap before
finally pushing myself to my feet. “You definitely have spirit,” he says as I
stand and glare at him.
He opens
the cell door and grabs me by the hair, forcing me back to my knees. As he
holds my hair up another bandit enters and places a leather collar around my
neck before quickly departing. My captor pulls me back to my feet, this time by
the thick metal chain attached to the collar at my neck.
“Come,
slave. I already have a buyer interested in you. He came for the head of a
bounty I killed, but became interested in you when I told him the man was
trying to rescue you.” As he drags me down the hall, my mind screams in protest.
A man tried to rescue me. It could only be Zane. Then that would mean…
Tears
streak down my face as I realize that Zane is dead, killed in an attempt to
rescue me from these filthy bandits. I stumble and fall to my knees, but my
captor refuses to slow. Unable to stand again, I’m forced to crawl quickly
behind the horrible man as he yanks on the collar choking me. We arrive at a
large wooden door, and the bandit hauls me to my feet before opening it.
“Come,
little one. You should be honored that such a powerful man is interested in
you,” he says as he leads me into the brightly lit room. “Here’s the girl that
the bounty was trying to rescue.” As my eyes adjust to the brightness of the
room, I notice a man sitting at a table near the wall.
“Leave us,”
the new man orders in a brusque tone. My captor immediately steps outside and
closes the door behind him. For some reason his quick acquiescence makes me
fear the man before me even more. “Come, sit.” He motions to the chair beside
him.
Never
taking my eyes from the man, I approach the table, the short chain between the
shackles on my ankles making walking difficult. I ease my battered body onto
the hard, wooden chair. Biting the inside of my lip, I raise my eyes to my new
captor. The man is handsome, with long, flowing, brown hair pooling around his
waist. His eyes are an intense shade of dark red…just like Zane’s.
“So,
you’re the one my foolish son thought dear enough to take on an entire bandit
stronghold. I’m sorry to say that it didn’t work out for him, my dear.” Fresh
tears form and run down my face, warming my chilled cheeks. “Oh don’t cry,
precious. I’ll take good care of you in my son’s place.” He reaches out and
lightly caresses my hair, and I cringe away in revulsion. “You will come to
respect me soon enough, my little slave. There will come a time when you will
beg your master to touch you.”
He rises
and moves behind me. It takes everything in my power to allow him to leave my
line of sight. When his hands touch my shoulders, I steel my nerves to keep
from flinching since he seems to enjoy my distress.
“Such a
strong will you have,” he purrs the words in my ear. “I will thoroughly enjoy
breaking it.” His maniacal laughter echoes throughout the room as he crosses
back to his chair. “I have a gift for you. We will hang it on the wall in your
room to commemorate your new life with me.” He pushes a burlap sack across the
table until it’s in front of me. “Come, my dear, open your present.”
With
trembling fingers, I untie the string holding the sack closed. Once the string
is released, the sack falls open. Bile rushes from my stomach to my throat. Leaning
over, I vomit on the floor at my side. Horrible tremors wrack my body. My
stomach continues retching uncontrollably. I shut my eyes to block out the
hideous sight before me, but the image is seared into my brain and there is no
escape. My new master cackles gleefully at my reaction to his ‘gift’. I open my
eyes again and find myself staring in horror at the bundle on the table. Zane’s
garnet eyes stare back sightlessly from his decapitated head. Something in my
mind breaks, and I fall into blissful unconsciousness, my master’s laughter
echoing in my ears.
The End
Return to page 37